


No Day But Today

by Moonshape



Category: Star Trek: Voyager
Genre: F/F, There will be more tags when I myself know what I'm writing, Time Travel, Timey-Wimey
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-02-23
Updated: 2019-03-03
Packaged: 2019-11-04 07:28:47
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 2,793
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17894096
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Moonshape/pseuds/Moonshape
Summary: The universe is vast, random and entirely indifferent. Nothing happens for a reason. Unless, that is, you tear yourself through time and space to personally ensure it does.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> So obviously I re-watched 11:59 and then the timey-wimeyness of Relativity recently. This apparently caused my brain to do a thing, but I'm still not sure I know where I'm going with it...or whether it'll work. Having had the most amazing and kind reaction from readers on here for my previous (first) story, I decided to just give this a go. Comments and kudos highly appreciated here as well, obviously.
> 
> If you don't know where the title of this is from, shame on you :p (RENT) 
> 
> (I don't really go in for much in the way of character/context background when I write so I hope that this works since it's pretty one episode specific...)

9.00pm

31st December, 2000

The wind was brutal and the bitter cold of it whistled through the small but ever-present gap between the glass and metal of one of the car’s back doors. The pitch and intensity of it cut through her nerves with an eerie, harsh persistence. The road was poorly lit, equally poorly maintained, and she hadn’t seen another vehicle since passing the town boundary. It was going to be a full night of driving alone through the dark, driven by the need to notch up as many miles as possible before dawn broke. The heat of the residual anger coursing through her veins was practically palpable; the only source of real warmth in the car. Shannon was quietly seething. The music helped but it couldn’t take the edge off the descending feeling of hopelessness. Yet another enforced fresh start; another inescapable and exhausting “opportunity” to build a life again from scratch. 

“Shit!” Someone, or something, appeared so unexpectedly at the side of the road that she swerved instinctively, feeling the wheels slide over a patch of ice before she could regain full control over the car.  “What the hell? Who the hell?” When she had come to a complete stop, she sat for a moment, letting her racing heart settle. Then, driven by some kind of urge she barely understood, she felt herself reversing to try and she what possibly could have spooked her so much. And perhaps to give it a good piece of her mind. “God, I hope it isn’t some drunken idiot,” she muttered, steering carefully to cast some light from the headlamps in what she assumed was the right direction.

“What the fuck?!” A young woman stood entirely alone in the snow, cheeks pink from the cold and moisture from her breath forming shapes in the air in front of her. She was well-dressed for the weather insofar, thought Shannon, as that was possible after dark on a December night in Indiana. There was something unnervingly upright about her posture and the confidence it seemed to project. “I wonder exactly how often she stands like that on frozen roadsides scaring the living crap out of passing drivers.”

Something, however, made her pull her beat-up car over and wind down window hesitantly. Particularly recently, she had rarely been sure that her instinct about what to do from moment to moment was correct. This time she was certain. 

Shannon was sure it was only the rush of freezing air which made the hairs on the back of her neck stand up when their eyes first met. She was shockingly beautiful, this inexplicable and surely half-crazy woman. Her eyes were a blue that was almost electric, standing out against the red and white chilled skin of her face. Only a few stray blonde hairs were visible under her woollen hat. She had such a well-disciplined face, it was hard to imagine she often gawped. There was, however, no other way to describe what she was doing, her mouth open and her lips glistening slightly in the low light. Shannon wondered what it would be like to kiss them. Before she even had time to process the thought fully, she felt the juxtaposition of something completely familiar and yet disconcertingly unknown open up inside her. There was suddenly so much she wanted to say. 

“You must be chilled to the bone out here,” she started, but never got any further. The young woman collapsed, crumpling down onto the snow at her feet.  

\----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

_ Encrypt this entry so that it is accessible by my voice print only.  _

_ Seven of Nine, personal log. I feel it is better not to allocate a time reference to what follows. _

_ When I first saw her, it was impossible for me to speak. Or to breathe. I am well aware that genetics should not work like this. I had never thought they could possibly look so alike. Even the collective knowledge and experience of the borg was insufficient to prepare me for this situation: to have travelled back in time fifteen generations, only to be greeted by the face of the woman I love. My heart was beating so fast that the illogical, human part of my brain thought I was going to die. I know this is physiologically impossible, but the knowledge did not help. Aware now what what immediately followed, I must assume that I was still holding my breath. Then, she spoke and it was worse. So, so much worse.  _


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Just under three hours until 2001 and from now on you get access to Seven and Shannon's "personal logs" :)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much to everyone reading and commenting already, it's helping me try and get my ideas organised and down (e.g. this morning instead of going for a run...oops) so there's more story coming for y'all :)
> 
> I seem to always have some problems finding Seven's voice.....but I'm working on it!

9.15pm

It took no more than a few seconds for her leap out of the driver’s seat, her heart in her mouth, but it took some considerable effort to roll up the layers of clothing on the arm closest to her and check for a pulse. Her hands were shaking. Shannon sighed with relief when she felt it, albeit faint “She must have just passed out,” she muttered to no one but the night air. 

She raised her hand to check the temperature of her forehead and was still resting it there when the young woman’s eyes opened and she started to exclaim “Cap…” before abruptly stopping, pressing her own lips together. As they looked at each other, Shannon had the uncomfortable feeling that this girl was searching her face, her eyes for something. And that she had been found wanting. She withdrew her hand and opened her mouth to speak when the other woman promptly stood up to her full height and pulled down the sleeve of her padded jacket. She seemed unsteady on her feet and nearly stumbled as she glanced around as if to check whether anything else lay on the ground where she had fallen.

“Whoa, whoa there. That was a pretty epic faint.” Shannon reached out an arm instinctively to hold her and saw the flash of reluctance in the young woman’s face before she gave in and let herself be guided to the car. “Now you need to sit here and just rest for a minute. Then you’re going to tell me what the hell you’re doing out here all alone on New Year’s Eve and apparently stone cold sober.”

“I will com...yes. Thank you.” She eased herself onto one of the back seats, lifting her feet upwards and then bringing them down again to rest on a dirty patch of grey snow outside the car. Shannon, still standing, was mesmerised by her every action, even as she started to shiver. She couldn’t say why but there was something so alien about this young woman, especially here. Yet Shannon couldn’t shake the nagging feeling she had seen her somewhere before though she knew she could never have forgotten such a face.  

“New Year’s Eve,” she heard her whisper, and then, louder “What is the time?”

“What?” 

“The time…..please.”

“It’s, uh, 9.25.”

“So I haven’t missed it.” 

“What?” Shannon laughed, “2001? Don’t worry, we haven’t missed it.” She paused and stamped the cold out of her feet. Her half-smile was shy and openly curious. “I’m Shannon.”

“You can call me Seven. It is a….nickname,” she added preemptively. The older woman imagined she must have to explain the origins of such an unusual moniker constantly. She didn’t ask.

“You’re not from around here.” It wasn’t a question.

The young woman raised an eyebrow. “Neither are you.” Shannon laughed, resting her hand on the roof of the car.

“That’s true. Now, how are you feeling?”

\---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

_ Access encrypted personal log Seven of Nine with my voice authorisation. I do not know why I feel compelled to record what happened in such detail despite the inherent risks that may bring. _

_ I had lost consciousness, but only for a few minutes. Should this log ever be accessed, I wish to state for posterity that there must have been a logical reason for this. I believe it was certainly a side effect of time travel. It is only in fiction that people faint for anything other than physical reasons. Kath - Captain Janeway’s rather unlikely preferred genre of holonovel often contains such incidents. It will never fail to surprise me that she chooses to spend her time in invented scenarios where female characters are so ludicrously limited by their sex and physiology that they “faint” with the least emotional provocation. At least I am aware that the Captain possesses a healthy sense of irony. _

_ When I regained consciousness, I could feel her warm skin - Shannon’s - against mine. She appeared to be assessing my body temperature in a crude and rather inefficient way. Still, it was pleasant - the physical contact. Her eyes held mine, full of concern. I became overwhelmed by a wave of emotions I couldn’t process - desire, hope. Fear. And I was…...ashamed. I felt weak, too human. Relying on another to help me cross the few steps to the vehicle. But she was kind. So open and kind. I could see it in her face when hovered near where I was sitting, refusing to get back in the relative warmth of the car. Her eyes are not Kathryn’s. They have that same piercing blue colour I would know anywhere but Shannon seems to have none of the Captain’s reserve, none of the carefully honed discipline of a Starfleet officer. I knew it from our first proper conversation. She was exhausted, half-frozen, and should have interrogated me immediately once she had established I was sufficiently recovered.  _

_ Instead, she fiddled briefly with some ancient audio device in the front of the car until music started to play quietly. Grabbing a bag of some kind from the front seat, she came back round to the open door where I was, told me to “scoot over” and then sat down beside me. And as though it was the most natural thing in the world, she put her hand on my knee. Opening the bag, she said “Here, have a cookie” and then just smiled at my obvious puzzlement. It was an imperfect smile, tired and lopsided. But it was genuine. I felt a sudden surge of affinity with Henry Janeway.  _

_ \-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- _

**I’m so tired but I’ve got to get all this recorded before I forget it. I’m nearly out of tapes as it is but I hope I can get all this down.**

**Where to start? My God, what a weird evening. Weird and pretty wonderful, to be honest. I met someone, a woman. Well, we didn’t so much meet as she practically jumped out of the dark at me. I mean, really, I still haven’t even got so much as an explanation out of her but I fully intend to in the morning. The proper morning, after we slept and had a bucket of coffee each.**

**There’s just something about her. It isn’t just the obvious - how outrageously beautiful she is. Christ, I can’t even get started on that. It’s something else; something I can’t grasp hold of, like it’s just out of my reach, always at the very corner of my vision. I feel somehow….it’s stupid even saying it, I’ll sound like some kind of mumbo-jumbo new age con artist. Oh, to hell with it - what’s the point of keeping this kind of audio journal if I censor myself? I feel somehow…...drawn to her. After a matter of hours. Ridiculous, ridiculous...I know.**

**I should go to bed.**

**How did it even start?**

**We sat in the back of my godforsaken, beat-up car and ate cookies. Of course we did. She nibbles like a….squirrel or something. Adorable. I couldn’t stop looking at her eating. Ok, fine. I couldn’t stop looking at her full stop. We’d reached a kind of comfortable silent but, predictably, it was me who broke it after a while.**

**“So, what has you freezing your ass off out here on the roadside when you could be….well, frankly, literally anywhere else?”**

**“I was looking for a….ride.”**

**“A ride?” She nodded at me and I could only smile stupidly. “It looks like you’ve found one. Where are you going, Seven?”**

**“I….was wondering if you could take me as far as Portage Creek.”The whole sentence was strained and kinda odd - as though she was speaking from a script she’d learned. I wanted to tell her that I was going in the other direction. Quickly, quietly and, after today, fucking irrevocably. That was, after all, the truth.**

**Instead I heard myself saying, “It would be my pleasure.”**


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> These two will get on the road soon (both figuratively and literally)...but not quite yet.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apparently I'm enjoying tiny chapters now. I'm still not sure about this story at all - it's proving a lot harder to write than I thought it would be when the idea popped into my brain. So any/all encouragement v much welcomed :)

9.30pm 

Shannon had started the ignition but they were still waiting for the engine to “warm up”, whatever that meant. Seven refrained from commenting on the obvious inefficiency of propulsion technology which didn’t function when you actually wanted to go somewhere. She was sure the older woman must be uncomfortably cold.

“You are inadequately dressed for this temperature. Why?” 

Shannon looked at her, eyes glowing with warmth. “Do you always speak like that, so straight to the point?”

“Yes.”

“I like it.” Her voice was low and something shifted minutely around them; the space where they sat seemed suddenly smaller. “I guess I wasn’t planning on staying anywhere with this kinda weather long enough to mind,” she continued quietly. 

“Your hands are too cold to drive effectively. Your manual dexterity will be compromised.” 

The older woman started laughing. “I’m sure I’ll manage. I’ve driven in a far worse state than this before. And you should have seen how the car looked a few months ago.”

“Unacceptable.” 

Shannon watched bemused as Seven re-angled her body, shifting her weight in the passenger seat to turn sideways. She tried, and then entirely failed, to control her face as the young woman unzipped her jacket and sweater, revealing the next layer of clothing underneath. It was so tight against her skin that the delicate line of every rib was visible and the older woman fought desperately to keep her eyes as high as they should be. Seven reached out and, with surprising gentleness, took her hands and lifted them to her mouth, breathing warm air over her frozen fingers again and again. That was when Shannon gave in entirely. Unable to speak or even to think, she let go of whatever reservations she had, and simply allowed whatever was happening to unfold. 

After a few moments, Seven looked at her red fingers intently and frowned, a small line of disatisfaction appearing between her eyebrows. Without even pausing, she firmly pulled the older woman’s hands closer and placed them on her torso, resting above her waist, perilously close to the curved swell of her breasts. “My body temperature is well-regulated. I am….warm,” she said simply, as though that were an obvious and logical explanation for her behaviour.

For the first time in her adult life, Shannon felt sure that, yes, there was a God. 

\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

_ I was trying to force myself to slow down my heart, sure she could feel it racing. It wasn’t working. I was trying to force myself to remember that the woman in front of me was someone I had just met, someone who would soon become so cold it would be actually dangerous and I had to simply help her. That wasn’t working either. I was trying to force myself to repeat, again and again inside my own head, that those hands weren’t anything like Kathryn’s. Still, I wanted them to rest like that on my body for as long as possible. I could feel their exact temperature even as it changed minutely, growing warmer. I could see, even in the relative dark, that her skin on her hands was coarse, rougher than mine, rougher than Kathryn’s. I could see that she didn’t take care of it and I wondered how it would feel against mine. Then she spoke and moved to start driving, “The engine should be good to go by now.” So I am still wondering.  _

\---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

**I just looked straight ahead, and drove. I swear I could still feel the heat and the fucking unbearable softness of her body tingling against my palms. Even once they were on the steering wheel. What is wrong with me? I just met her. I just met him, too, Henry Janeway, and look how that turned out in a matter of days….I’m too old and too smart to keep tearing through life tripping over my own heart. And it’s exhausting.**

**But something is different here with this strange, inexplicable woman. I look at her and I want to spew out my whole life, just so that she understands every bit of who I am. Why the hell? It’s like she reminds me of something that hasn’t happened yet…..well that sentence just makes no fucking sense whatsoever.**

**Great, on top of everything else I’m losing my actual mind.**


End file.
